


Through the Storm

by CheshireChett



Category: Tangled: The Series (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireChett/pseuds/CheshireChett
Summary: 2-year-old Varian is deathly sick, and Quirin is determined to get him help, even if he has to go through a terrible blizzard.





	Through the Storm

The winds howled in Quirin’s ears as he pushed through the snow. The cold sliced through his jacket, making him shiver. In his arms, he clutched a bundle of blankets. Coughing ensued inside them. He pulled them back a bit to reveal a small face with big blue eyes. 

 

“Are you okay in there, Varian?” he asked the child. 

 

The boy’s teeth were visibly chattering, his lips quivering. 

 

“D-d-daddy,” he stammered. “I-I’m c-c-c-cold.”

 

Quirin sighed. 

 

“I know, son, I know,” he assured, “but we’re almost there. Just hang in there for me, ok?”

 

Varian nodded, and Quirin put the flap of blankets over his face again and held him close to his chest. He trudged through the snow, keeping his head down low. His cheeks and nose have already become numb from the cold. The chill has seeped into his gloves and boots, making his fingers and toes feel frozen. He has to get to the castle and fast. He doesn’t how long Varian will last out here, even with this illness. His gut wrenched at the thought of what might happen if he doesn’t get to the castle soon enough. Quirin shook his head. 

 

No, he can’t afford to think like this. Everything’s going to be alright once they’ve reached Corona. Once they’re in the castle. It’ll be warm there, and there’ll be a doctor who could help his child. His only child. Knitting his brows together, he pushed through the storm with a new determination. He _has_ to get to the castle. For Varian’s sake. 

 

He looked up from staring at the ground and peered through the snow. Is that…? Yes. Yes! He could just make out the dark silhouette of the castle! He’s almost there! Quirin continued walking towards the silhouette. A few minutes later, he finally reached the bridge and crossed it. Once in the capital, he looked around and found he was the only person out. Everyone else must have sought shelter, be it in their own homes or in the castle. He trudged to the castle and let himself in. He let out a sigh of relief once he entered the warm hallway. 

 

A guard came out to meet him. 

 

“I must see the king, and quickly,” Quirin said. 

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but the king is very busy,” the guard replied. Quirin frowned. 

 

“Too busy for an old friend?” he retorted. “I need his help. My son-”

 

As though on cue, Varian started coughing from under the blankets. Quirin pulled back the blankets to reveal his son’s face. Varian continued coughing; Quirin’s eyebrows turned up in concern. 

 

“My son is very sick,” he explained over the coughing. “I _must_ see King Frederic. _Now._ ”

 

The guard hesitated before saying:

 

“Wait here, sir.” 

 

The guard went and disappeared behind a door. Varian had stopped coughing and started shivering, despite being in five blankets and a warm area, as well as running a high fever. Quirin held him close. 

 

“It’s going to be ok, Varian,” he whispered. “Help is on the way.”

 

The guard appeared once again. 

 

“The king will see you.”

 

Relief flooded him. Quirin couldn’t help but smile as he approached the guard and entered the throne room. Frederic was standing with his wife and captain, talking. Arianna touched Frederic’s arm and gestured to the quickly approaching man. 

 

“Quirin,” the king greeted. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Please, Frederic,” Quirin begged, “my son is very sick, and there isn’t a doctor in my village. Please, Frederic, you have to help me.”

 

Frederic gave Quirin a pained expression. 

 

“I’m sorry, old friend, but I can’t spare any medicine. The people in the capital have all come down with a terrible sickness, and I need as much of the medicine as possible.”

 

Quirin shook his head. 

 

“No no, please. Please, there _has_ to be some medicine you can part with.” 

 

Varian violently coughed in the blankets, snuggling into them as he shivered. Quirin glanced worriedly at Varian and stroked his son’s hair, as though trying to soothe him. Arianna approached the two-year-old and gently pulled back the blanket to feel his forehead. Her eyes widened, and she turned to her husband. 

 

“He’s burning up,” she said. 

 

Frederic stared at the boy, conflicted. Finally, he sighed. He turned to his captain. 

 

“Captain, take Quirin to the medic. See if he can spare any medicine for the child.” 

 

Relief flooded Quirin. He relaxed his shoulders, and a smile spread across his face. 

 

“Thank you, your majesty,” he breathed, “thank you so much.”

 

Quirin followed the captain to the infirmary. The Captain opened the door and gestured him inside. Quirin nodded in thanks and entered the room. In the infirmary, most of the beds were occupied by people either sleeping, coughing or just straight up looking miserable. A stout man spotted Quirin entering and hurried over to him. 

 

“Are you sick?” the man asked. 

 

“No,” Quirin shook his head, and the bundle of blankets started coughing again. He unwrapped Varian’s head. “He is.” 

 

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up, and he held out his arms, gesturing with his hands to give the boy to him. Quirin obliged, and the doctor hurried over to one of the empty beds and set Varian down in it. He unwrapped the blankets from around Varian’s small body. The medic put a stethoscope in his ears and pressed the diaphragm of it against one side of Varian’s chest, frowning. He moved it to the other side of the child’s chest. 

 

“Take a deep breath for me, son,” the medic instructed. 

 

Varian started to do what the medic said, but it was quickly interrupted by coughing. The medic frowned. 

 

“Sit up,” he said. Varian obeyed, still coughing. The doctor pressed the stethoscope against the boy’s back. “Take another deep breath.”

 

Varian did and wasn’t interrupted this time. The doctor removed the stethoscope tips from his ears, stood up and went over to Quirin, a grim look on his face. 

 

“Well?” Quirin frantically asked. 

 

The doctor sighed and shook his head. 

 

“He’s the worst one yet.”

 

Quirin’s heart plummeted. No. That can’t be. 

 

“B-but you can help him, right?” 

 

“I can only help if it’s mild,” the doctor explained. “A case like this at his age? If I try to give him the amount I give to the older patients, it could kill him.”

 

He sighed. 

 

“He’s dead either way…” the medic muttered.

 

Hearing this, anger surged through Quirin as he grabbed the medic by the collar and hoisted him up. 

 

“My son is _not_ going to die,” he growled. “Not because of your incompetence. You’re going to give him the medicine he needs and-“

 

“Daddy?”

 

His mind snapped out of the anger at the sound of the small, weak voice. Dropping the doctor, Quirin hurried to Varian. 

 

“Yes, Varian, I’m here.” He sat down beside the bed and took the boy’s little hand into his own bigger hand. “Daddy’s here.”

 

Varian’s body shook as another fit of coughs forced its way out of him. Once settled, the toddler looked up at his father, fear glazing his eyes. 

 

“Daddy,” Varian croaked, his throat most likely raw from all the coughing, “I don’t want to die.”

 

Quirin gathered the boy up into his arms, holding him close. 

 

“You’re not going to,” Quirin murmured. “I won’t allow it.”

 

Varian’s little hand clung to his dad’s coat. He buried his face into his dad’s chest, feeling the warmth and finding comfort in it. However, despite Quirin’s body heat, Varian still shivered. It felt like he was getting colder, even though he was in a warm room and in warm arms. He was exhausted. Maybe a little rest will do him good. Varian closed his eyes, his breathing short and strangled. His heart slowly pounded in his ears. Relaxing into his father’s hold, little Varian slipped into the arms of Mercury. 

 

Quirin noticed that Varian’s wheezing had stopped, and he looked down at the small figure. 

 

“Varian?” 

 

He brushed the boy’s shaggy black hair out of his face. 

 

“Varian?”

 

No response. Not even a stir. He gently shook his son. 

 

“Varian?”

 

Panic rose in his chest. Quirin pressed his ear to the small chest, listening. He held still for a moment, breath bated. 

 

Nothing. 

 

His stomach clenched as he shook the boy’s body. Tears threatened to fall. 

 

“Varian.”

 

His breathing quickened. 

 

“Varian!”

 

He shook his son harder. 

 

“Varian, wake up!” 

 

The tears fell and blurred his vision. He choked. 

 

“Varian, please-”

 

Quirin bowed his head, hiding his tears. His body trembled as he silently sobbed. He brought his hand up to his face, covering it. He stayed like that for a while, weeping and grieving over his lost son. 

 

“Sir, I’m-” the doctor started to say, but Quirin held up his hand, making the doctor go silent. He stood up, clutching Varian’s cooling body close to his chest, and left the castle without a word. 

 

The storm had calmed to a light snowfall. Quirin trudged down the stairs, careful not to slip. Once he got to the bottom of the staircase, he looked up and blinked in surprise. He squinted, unable to believe what he is seeing. 

 

At the entrance to the castle grounds stood a familiar figure, her white hair nearly blending in with the snow. Quirin heaved a sigh and went down the curved incline. He approached her and stopped in front of her. 

 

“Hello, Quirin,” she greeted. 

 

“What are you doing here, Adira?” Quirin demanded. Adira smirked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

“Can’t I visit an old friend?” she inquired teasingly. 

 

“I know you better than that,” Quirin replied, gruffly. “Why are you here?”

 

She sighed, her smirk fading. She looked down at the small, unmoving body in his arms. 

 

“I’m here to help.”

 

Quirin followed her gaze to Varian. He grimaced. 

 

“You’re too late for that.”

 

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Maybe not. He can be saved if we use… _that._ ”

 

Quirin stared at her quizzically. His eyes then widened in realisation. He shook his head. 

 

“No,” he rejected, sternly. 

 

“But, Quirin, he’s all you have left,” Adira urged. He still shook his head. 

 

“No. It’s too dangerous.” 

 

“Not unless it’s mishandled.”

 

Quirin studied her, searching for any sign of doubt…or scheming. He looked down at Varian, limp and cold in his arms. Finally, he sighed. 

 

“Alright,” he agreed, “but no tricks.”

 

Adira nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. 

 

“I only want to help you and your son,” she said. He nodded. 

 

“Alright. Let’s go.”


End file.
